


Burns and Bruises

by useyourlove



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-25
Updated: 2011-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourlove/pseuds/useyourlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara tries to convince herself that this will all be ok. Set the morning after "Unfinished Business".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burns and Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> [Also posted on LJ at wartytoads.](http://wartytoads.livejournal.com/7901.html) Originally posted at [no-takebacks](http://no-takebacks.livejournal.com/233252.html?thread=12336676#t12336676).

This was wrong. It was completely and utterly wrong. She was bad. She was sinful. She was wicked. When she wrapped herself in that, it was all right.

Because the raw, naked, heated _longing_ in his eyes was just too much to go up against without a blast shield. So she ran her hand up her arm, reminding herself _there is a mark there_. Reminding herself that she could wrap herself in Sam to face down Lee like putting on a flight suit to step into empty space.

It was flight briefing--nothing special happening today. The same routine, usual, blah blah. The tenor drone of his voice cut straight through her, her chest ready to burst from it like he'd lit a fire. She shifted in her seat and rolled her shoulder, trying to work out the kinks. Her nose still throbbed. Cottle had cleaned it up where it busted, but she had heavy bruises beneath both of her eyes. She was trying not to look at him. Trying and failing miserably. Her eyes wanted him.

She lifted her heavy lids and her gaze pierced him, peering out at him from above the dark black circles. He was just as bad--moving gingerly all day around the tender bruises she had laid into his ribs and stomach. They discovered when they arrived that morning that neither of them were on rotation today. Their shifts had been mysteriously and silently picked up before they even hit the ready room.

He still tasted her lips on his. The salt tang of her sweat. Still felt her skin beneath his fingers, her body against his. The way she took his punches, her eyes begging for the anger. _Punish me, I've done wrong_ even as her words goaded him further. He took a breath and looked down, clearing his throat.

They wore their bruises defiantly, daring anyone to comment. Daring someone to say something. To rib them. Starbuck may have sprained her wrist in the ring but she certainly wasn't beyond throwing another punch. They all knew it.

No one said anything. No one had to. There was a line of fire connecting them. When they were dismissed, everyone avoided stepping between them on their way out.

Kara had her foot propped up on the seat, one arm wrapped around her tucked up knee. She wasn't looking at him any longer, watching the pen she was wiggling back and forth through the air from sheer nervous energy. They were alone.

He cleared his throat and her eyes shot to his. She stilled.

"How's your nose?"

She raised an eyebrow. The two deep bruises beneath her eyes frightened him. They made him uneasy. Like maybe he should apologize. Or fix it. Or explain how he hurt her--why he hurt her. That every broken bone and drop of blood and blossoming bruise said _I love you, I hate you, I love you_. But she knew that already. She knew. And so he didn't know what to say.

She licked her lips briefly--the tip of her tongue darting out quickly before disappearing once more.

"S'fine." Her voice cracked.

He was standing beside the podium, watching her, his whole body strung tight. She dropped her foot to the ground and sat up straighter, clearing her throat.

"Kara," he was moving towards her, eyes so open and wanting that she couldn't do anything but move towards him as well, trap him in the cage of her arms, never let him go. If she could just hold him here, their hearts pounding against each other, then maybe she could breathe again without wanting to maim everyone she saw.

But she worried. It niggled at the back of her mind. Keep him away. Keep him at arm's length. Don't let him inside. You're a cancer. You break everything you touch. Keep him away. Keep him safe.

And she couldn't.

He pulled back from her, his hand on her cheek, his fingers trailing along her jawbone and she tried to close her eyes, tried to shut him out, tried to make this just a thing she did for fun. Just a kiss, just a frak. Just some frustrations that needed to be let out. But when she opened her eyes she was lost in his. He leaned in and kissed her and she kissed him back, one arm wrapping around his neck, the other trailing low around him, pulling him tighter.

Gods, but she felt alive. Alive and bright and _safe_. Safe except that he would be taken away. The gods would find him. She was like a beacon, marking out destruction. And then he would be gone.

She pulled back from him with a shuddering breath and rested her forehead against his, their eyes closed. His fingers were playing in her hair, across the bruises on her face, behind her ear. He placed a gentle kiss against the bridge of her nose, just where it was busted and she winced. She welcomed the pain. She revelled in it. Make this painful. Make it hateful. Don't love it. Don't live for it. Make it something else. Don't need it. If you need it, they'll take it away.

And so she took a breath and wrapped her heart in Sam. This was wrong. She was treating Sam badly. This was not allowed. Make it wrong. Make it wrong. Make it _wrong_. But his breath against her skin, his hands in her hair, the way his heart thumped so hard she could feel it in her bones. It was oh so right.

His lips trailed against the sensitive skin beneath her ear and suddenly Sam was like a paper window trying to hold back a hurricane.

"Lee," she breathed against his ear.

And his legs began to give. He sat down hard on the floor, pulling her with him, straddling him and they both cringed as their tender places scraped and banged, but they laughed and laughed and her heart felt lighter than it had in years when she captured his lips in another hungry kiss. She'd been handed the sun, breaking through the clouds and playing across her face. How funny she'd never realized before that that's what he was--the sun god. How it made her want to cry.

And then she decided, and a tear dropped onto her cheek, brushed away by his thumb and his kisses like a ray of sunshine evaporating her sorrow. Screw fate. Screw the gods. Screw it all. Take the sun with both hands and don't stop to think how it burns.


End file.
